


The Darkness (my theory)

by sastiel_and_such



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 11x1 theory, Gen, Sexual Abuse, Torture, bloody deaths, darkness theory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4760828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sastiel_and_such/pseuds/sastiel_and_such
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each chapter is the point of view of Sam or dean, each after being enveloped by the darkness. In my opinion, since God battled away the darkness, and created heaven as a paradise, I feel like the Darkness was full of nightmares and fear, and this is why it was locked away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sam's POV

Sam and Dean sat in the Impala, paralyzed as the darkness headed towards them. They were immobilized by a pothole, and were left for whatever fate had in store for them.

Sam reached over and grabbed Dean’s right arm, and squeezed it.

“Sammy…”

. . .

Sam felt as though he were ripped from the Impala and jerked around for hours. He couldn’t keep a grip on Dean and for all he knew, he was dead.

“Sam Winchester,” an eery, genderless voice growled.

Sam tried to stay conscious as the thrashing continued.

“I have seen your deepest secrets and fears, your worst nightmares.”

Everything froze, and for a minute, Sam couldn’t see anything. Then he was falling through darkness, and landed in a room. He was sitting, and looked around the room. No Dean, but he could make out that the room was made of hard, cold concrete, and shivered. When he looked back down from the ceiling, Azazel was standing in front of him, which made him jump back. Once he realized who it was, he tried to reach up and grab him, but his hands were chained back to the wall, and he couldn’t move. 

“Nice try, Sammy,” smiled Azazel. “But looks like you’re all tied up.” His eyes flashed yellow, and he stood up, pacing the room.

Sam felt his whole body radiate with heat and shivered again. Why was he so cold? He looked down and realized: he was stark naked. Vulnerable to any attack without a single weapon, Sam blushed and tried to move his legs so he could cover himself.

“I bet you’re wondering what the hell this is,” Azazel started, “so I’ll get straight to the point.” He stopped and looked at Sam. “This ‘darkness’ that Death told you about it full of everyone’s worst nightmares. Everyone in the world right now is either sharing the same fate as you, or is going to once it reaches them.”

“I’ve dealt with a shit-ton of monsters worse than you,” retorted Sam.

The demon laughed. “Oh Sammy, but I bet that I’m one of the few that you truly remember?” He got down on one knee in front of Sam, and laughed. “I bet you remember every moment of being a freak, of being forced to kill others to please me, and when Dean brought you back for his own purposes. All of it, taking advantage of you. Making you weak, vulnerable.” He reached out and slapped Sam hard enough to make him yell.

“Go to hell, bitch,”said Sam, through stinging eyes. He hated thinking about all of the things that he did for Azazel, all of the times in his life when he was possessed and did someone else’s bidding. It made him cringe, and even cry some nights, when he thought of all of the death and blood he was responsible for.

“And that’s just the thing, isn’t it, Sam?” Azazel questioned. “I’m not even the worst thing you’ve encountered, but you remember me, because of how I took advantage of you. I made you vulnerable.” He looked between Sam’s legs and laughed. “Kind of like now.

“But, enough of me, let’s get interesting.” Azazel morphed into Meg, then multiplied into Ruby, Gadreel, and Lucifer. The four of them stood there, staring at Sam, smiling.

It was awkward for Sam to be in a room full of his worst enemies (especially nude), but he felt like that now he knew what he was dealing with, it wouldn’t be so bad.

“I’ll start,” laughed Meg. “Remember when I possessed you and almost made you kill Dean? Or when I almost made you rape and kill Jo? Wasn’t that a fun time?” Meg walked towards Sam, and stared right into his eyes. They flashed black, and it was as if Meg threw herself at Sam, black smoke and all, possessing him. Sam knew what it felt like to be possessed, but this was different. He wasn’t “asleep” for anything. Meg kept him awake and made him watch as he ripped his hands from the wall, and created fifty Jo Harvelles in one room.

One by one, Meg killed each Jo, using Sam’s body. He clawed at the inside of his vessel, trying hard to be released and stop. He didn’t care that this was fake: killing a person always took a toll on him. This time, it was fifty tolls. He choked, stabbed (a knife appeared when Meg wanted it to), punched, and tore Jo’s body to shreds one by one, watching all of the blood flow from her face and listening to her scream. 

When Meg was done, she flew from Sam’s vessel back into her own, and chained Sam back to the wall. He was covered in blood, but not his own. He had tears in his eyes, and he let them flow freely as he let his hair fall in his face, looking down.

“You’re a fucking monster,” Sam choked.

“Ain’t I, though?”

With that, she kicked him between the legs, and went to the corner of the room. He whimpered out, and Ruby stepped up, taking the spot where Meg stood.

“Now me,” she said coldly. She kicked Sam in the face, and bent down. She grabbed him by his hair, and tilted his head back so his neck was exposed. “I must admit, I missed this.” She sloppily moved her tongue up and down Sam’s neck, still pulling his hair, making him hiss.

“Doesn’t matter too much,” Sam lied, “none of it is real.”

“Oh, but it does. Because every day, since I was gone, was hell on earth for you. Because every day, you thought about the people I made you kill. Because every day, you tried to fix your mistakes, but just ended up making the world a worse place by breathing. I don’t give two shits if you tried to fix anything, or if you had good intentions. Nothing good happened, so you still have blood on your hands. Because every day, my face haunts you, as the one who made you feel good and important, but was really just using you.” She threw his head back, releasing his hair, and kicked him again, leaving a bloody lip behind. 

From the inside of her jacket, she pulled the knife that was used to kill demons. She slowly twirled it in her hand, coldly snickering. She straddled Sam, which made him blush, and put the knife against his neck. “I want to see you bleed.”

She pulled the knife back and quickly slashed his throat. Not enough to kill him, but enough to make blood flow and him scream in pain. She kept making slash marks across his neck, before moving to his chest. She would push the blade just deep enough to leave a scar, but never enough to kill him. His entire upper body was covered in blood fifteen minutes later, when she finally decided to stop. She went to the corner where Meg was, and stood.

Then Gadreel stepped up. “Hello, Sam. Long time no see.”

“I… don’t really understand… why you’re here,” whispered Sam. He was weak, but he knew that these assholes wouldn’t let him die. He also knew that in the end, Gadreel made the decision to sacrifice himself to save Castiel, which turned out to be noble.

“I’m here because you remember me as evil. I possessed you and made you kill Kevin, and I know that you remember every second of it.” He stepped to Sam, and knelt on one knee. He looked Sam in his whiskey-colored eyes, and laughed. “But I know you think it was all you that killed Kevin. He was such an innocent boy that you ripped from a normal life, just to help you. Shame that he ended up dead, but he would have sooner or later being around you.” Gadreel stood and looked down at Sam, making him feel inferior.

“And now, I can actually possess you without you saying yes.”

“That’s not how it wor…” Sam was silenced by Gadreel’s light entering him. He immediately went to the “chained to a comet” feeling, but still could see through his own eyes. Kevin appeared before him, eyes bloody and probably gone for all Sam knew. 

“Why did you kill me, Sam?” Kevin pleaded. 

Instead of Sam screaming for him to understand, Gadreel spoke through Sam’s body. “You were useless, and we never loved you. We only wanted you when you were of service, but eventually became too much of a burden.” Sam saw his muscular arm reach out, and grab Kevin. But, instead of killing him (again) by shining his light, he grabbed him, and threw him against the wall, hard enough to hear ribs crack. Kevin laid there, still breathing, but whimpering from the pain.

Sam tried, he really did, to tell himself that this wasn’t real. The real Kevin was in heaven or with his mom. He wasn’t really this miserable. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it felt too real, and that Kevin was being tortured all over again. Gadreel walked over to Kevin’s limp body, and started ripping him apart, literally, while Sam watched his hands do it.

He screamed and yelled and scratched the inside of his head, trying to break free, but he could only watch Kevin, beyond dead, still being maimed. Different parts of his body were scattered in about a ten foot radius, and once Sam was chained back to the wall, Gadreel expelled himself and walked to the corner.

Sam wanted to start bawling, because he couldn’t live with himself, being taken advantage of to kill his friends. His family. 

Finally, Lucifer stepped forward, his eyes flickering teal. “Sam. Good to see you again. How has my bitch been?”

“Fuck yourself,” spat Sam.

“Not very nice, Sam. I might have to punish you for it later,” Lucifer said, still standing.

“Well, get on with it. What’s your torture?” barked Sam.

“Have you thought that maybe, just maybe, with all of the powerful beings in this room, we could make all of your nightmares an actual reality? Who’s to say that we’re not all real? Hell, the darkness was released from underground, why couldn’t we be?” Lucifer knelt down, looking at Sam’s junk. 

Sam tried to cover himself, but found his legs and body paralyzed. “It’s not real. Most of you are dead, or at least in Hell.”

“Ah, we were in hell, Sammy. But the darkness isn’t so bad afterall. It wanted us to torture every living being in existence. How are you so sure that we aren’t in hell right now? That the darkness didn’t kill you on impact and Azazel and I lied? Maybe this is your hell. Not the cage, but actual hell.” Lucifer stood back up, and snapped his fingers. Dean appeared, hanging from the ceiling with his arms in chains. “Now, I’m going to kill Dean, but not before having a little bit of fun, like we did in the cage. Remember, Sam? You were my literal bitch.” Lucifer went back down, and ran his hand up Sam’s leg and to his thigh.

“Lucifer, please, not again… Please… anything else…”

“Ah but Sam, it wouldn’t be your worst nightmare without you feeling vulnerable.” He ran his hand further up Sam’s leg until it neared his private area, and said “Get used to this.”


	2. Dean's POV

Dean felt the same feeling as Sam, except the genderless voice didn’t really speak to him. The words were whispered inside of his mind, but he knew that they weren’t his own.

“Dean Winchester,” it whispered.

“Who the hell…”

“I can see inside your mind, and even your very soul. I know just how to kill you in all the right ways, or at least make you kill yourself.”

“As if…” But Dean couldn’t finish. He was thrashing around still when he landed in the bunker, and hit his head. Dizzy, he stood up, and looked around.

“Really?” he questioned, laughing bitterly. “This is my ‘worst nightmare?’”

He walked around the corner of the library when he saw Sam and Castiel standing next to each other, staring blankly at the wall. Dean got their attention because the dead silence made him uncomfortable, but he never would have guessed the looks he got from them. 

Sam had a look of pure disgust on his face when he saw Dean. It was the coldest, most unforgivable face one’s brother could make at them.

Castiel furrowed his brow and scrunched his face, trying to seem like he was angry at Dean. Before he knew what hit him, Dean was flying backwards into the room he came from, and hit his head again. When he rubbed the back of his head, he felt blood this time. When he tried to get up to kick someone’s ass (whoever he thought forced him back), he felt all the blood in his head rush down and he went down with it. He collapsed onto the floor, and knocked himself out.

. . .

When Dean Winchester woke up, he wasn’t lying in his bed like he had hoped, but instead he was against the wall, hands chained above him, and attached to the ceiling. His wrists were sore from supporting all of his weight for… how long was he out?

When he looked up, his head was throbbing, but he tried to focus on the task at hand: what the hell was going on. He saw Sam and Castiel standing in front of him, both had angel blades in their hands. “Guys, what are you do…” But he was silenced by Sam punching him. He groaned and looked him in the eyes. Nothing seemed wrong with them, and they were his normal brownish-green eyes. But surely this wasn’t really Sam.

“Don’t speak again out of turn, if you know what’s good for your health,” snapped Castiel, looking like a rabid attack dog. His eyes were bloodshot this time, and he had cuts all over his face.

“You’re not as intelligent as me, so I feel like an explanation would blow your mind. I’ll keep it short and use small words for you,” started Sam. “This whole ‘darkness’ thing really made me realize how much I don’t need you. Why would I be with you when I could wreak havoc on other people?”

“Sammy, this isn’t you,” Dean pleaded.

“No, it is, you just don’t want it to be,” Sam snickered. “and this is who I’ve always been. An evil being, always held back by the ‘goodness,’ if that’s what you want to call it, in your soul. I was only around so you didn’t feel so alone in the world, even though you always were.”

That sentence hit Dean like a needle in the chest. He knew deep down that he couldn’t live without his baby brother, and that’s why he either brought him back or saved him when he didn’t want to be saved. He always wanted the best for Sam, and when Jess died, he took him in, but never thought of letting go. Through thick and thin, demons and angels, Dean always wanted Sam to support him. He wasn’t sure if he could live without him. 

“I never loved you, Dean,” Sam spat out. “I was only with you because Dad died, and I needed to get back on my feet. I was always evil, and was just using you to stay hidden so I didn’t die.”

“Stop it,” Dean whispered.

Sam smiled mockingly. “You should have killed me when Dad told you to. Why do you think I was going to go with Death after the trials? I’ll give you a hint: it was always you.” Sam thrusted his angel blade into Dean’s cheek, just enough to draw blood. “I just wanted to get away from you.”

Dean’s eyes were stinging with the tears he was trying to hold back. He was being a good soldier and not showing weakness in front of the enemy. But when the enemies were his family, it made it that much harder. “You’re not real.”

“But we are, Dean Winchester,” said Castiel. “Just because you don’t want us to be real doesn’t mean we aren’t.”

“But the voice said…”

“Fuck what the voice said, Dean. Who’s to say that you weren’t imagining it? Who’s to say it wasn’t just you trying to reassure yourself that your worst nightmares aren’t becoming a reality?” 

Castiel walked towards Dean, and tore his shirt off when he reached him. He laid his eyes on the handprint on his shoulder, left behind from seven years ago. “Do you know what this mark actually means, Dean?”

“It means you pulled my sorry ass from hell,” Dean croaked.

“Close, but no. This mark represents how I’ve always pulled you from danger, because you were always too weak to do it yourself. Hunts, Hell, and anything in between, you could never handle. This mark shows weakness and dependency on others, especially on me and your brother.” Castiel placed his hand on the scar, and started pulling.

To Dean, this was a sheer, burning sensation because it seemed like Castiel was trying to rip off the mark. Castiel’s face grew determined, and he dug his fingers into Dean’s skin. Dean howled because of the pain, which led to a slap from Sam. This didn’t quiet him down, but fueled his rage and sadness, making him yell louder. Castiel’s fingers were actually in Dean’s shoulder, pulling still. Blood gushing down his torso, Dean thought an eternity passed by until Castiel actually ripped the scar off (which wasn’t so hard, because it was his own hand print), when it was really about five minutes. When Castiel pulled his bloody hand back, Dean saw his skin dangling in between his fingers, and started to cry. If it didn’t hurt before, it hurt now. The air stung the fresh wound, and it wouldn’t stop bleeding.

“Do you know what else this represents, Dean?” Castiel questioned.

“You’re not… real.”

Ignoring him, Castiel continued. “Our old companionship. But, being you, you ruined it and threw me away, only using me for my powers. I never really liked you, but started to despise you when you thought I was your pet. So yes Dean, I’m real. And I’m sorry that this took so long for me to come out and say.” Castiel threw the flesh on the ground, creating a disgusting, splattering sound. 

Dean couldn’t even feel his shoulder at this point, and looked at it to make sure his arm was still there. 

Suddenly, a crash sounded from another room, but only Dean reacted to it. Through tears, he asked “What was that?” The answer came shortly when John Winchester walked through the door. “Okay, this definitely isn’t real.”

“Didn’t you see me crawl out of hell, dumbass?” John said bitterly.

“Yeah, but I thought you were a ghost.”

“Who’s to say I’m not?” John winked at Dean, and continued speaking. “I feel like these boys gave you a good talk, but I’m about to give you a better one.” John walked up to Dean, and punched him in the face, causing laughter to sound from Sam and Cas. “You were always my biggest disappointment. And ignorant, selfish, dumbass child who was only a burden to me.” Punch. “Sammy here, he was smart, talented, and a great hunter. Rarely showing weakness, he is by far my favorite.” Punch. “I died because of you. Because I needed you to save the world, and save Sammy, but you couldn’t even do that. Look around us. What have you done right? Nothing.” Punch. “Associating with demons, giving the good Winchester name a bad wrap. And even with your idol standing in front of you, punching you, the person who hates Dean Winchester the most in this room, is Dean Winchester himself.” Punch.

Dean’s right eye was swollen shut, and his other eye wasn’t far from it. His face ached with pain, and when he tried to spit at John, saliva just fell from his swollen, bruised lip onto the floor. “But… at leaft… I’m ftill alive… Unlike you, you dead prick.”

“But you want to die. You want to rid yourself of this misery you call life. You don’t want the world’s problems to weigh on your shoulders, because no matter how hard you try, you always end up with blood on your hands. You try to be a good little soldier, but you still wonder why you have to be the one to step up. And you’ll never know the answer. You’ll always be pulled back into the life you never wanted. And you’ll do it until you go back to hell.”

Dean shivered and realized that all the blood on his body was starting to dry. He looked up at his family, and frowned (or tried through the swollen lips). Surely this couldn’t be real. Right?

Dean laughed cruelly. “I’ll wake up thoon, or kick thomeone’th aff, and be out of thif thoon.”

John punched him again, causing Dean to wince in pain. “Then we’ll make sure that you never wake up.”


End file.
